


this must be the place

by monstermash



Series: down all your darkest roads [1]
Category: BREACH: The Archangel Job (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, M/M, Organized Crime, Possible Spoilers, most of the characters tagged are just mentioned or only show up briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-12 22:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21483889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstermash/pseuds/monstermash
Summary: "You'll shoot your heart out, kid."
Relationships: Gabriel (BREACH: The Archangel Job) & Raquel (BREACH: The Archangel Job), Raphael | Main Character & Mouse | Edwyn Carmichael, Raphael | Main Character & Ramiel | Hayne Lyndell, Raphael | Main Character/Gabriel (BREACH: The Archangel Job)
Series: down all your darkest roads [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784062
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	this must be the place

**Author's Note:**

> i've just finished playing Breach, and overall it's really good and i recommend giving it a try. i'm also low-key dying for book two
> 
> the part after the jewelry store heist (and because i was listening to Talking Heads while playing it) gave me ideas lmao
> 
> just a heads up, i know nothing about New York City and i haven't lived in Chicago since i was a kid so if anything is wrong or doesn't make sense it's My Bad, y'all

It's both the prettiest and the nicest damn thing he's ever been given, and yes, that's including the thirdhand leather jacket he's had since he was seventeen.

And normally, being given nice things - _really_ nice things - sits low and heavy in his stomach like a stone, because in his experience nothing good ever comes from it. Not for him at least. Nice gifts are usually a prelude to awful things, like a switchblade to the ribs or having your face ground into broken glass and asphalt. 

But there's just _something_ about the sapphire necklace. Maybe it's because technically he stole it first and _then_ Gabriel gave it to him, or maybe he was already a little in love with it when he first saw it while casing Velvet Cuts.

Maybe a little of column A, little of column B.

And fuck if he wasn't a little tempted to put it on right then and there, but there was still work to be done with the rest of their haul.

Not to mention Hayne had been watching the exchange a little too closely, a too sharp smile that means she's amused, and Edwyn looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin - either from nerves or caffeine.

The point is, is that Gabriel gives him the sapphire necklace, _the_ nicest gift he's ever gotten, and there's no dread that tells him to brace for impact. Instead, there's warmth weaving and curling its way through his ribs.

Wes isn't sure what to make of it.

\---

An all too familiar chuckle drags him back from the edge of sleep.

"You're really out of it. What'd you do, try to out-drink Justin?"

"Yup," Wes answers, popping the _'p'_ as he blinks against the too bright neon lights, a grin worming its way onto his face. "Your faces are dancing."

"Yeah, you've definitely had enough for tonight," Gabriel presses a water bottle into Wes' hands before taking a seat next to him, kicking his feet up onto the balcony railing.

The night is as quiet as it can be in a city like Chicago, making Wes a little homesick for New York. Which is weird because the only good parts of New York had been the fact that his best friend was there too, but now they're both here so he shouldn't miss it this much. Well, he does miss seeing Al; they weren't exactly close friends, but Al was just a great guy all around. Never ratted him out the rare few times Wes got arrested. Hopefully he isn't getting robbed as often.

Although, the Archangels technically own New York with an iron fist, so maybe...

"Hey," Wes whispers, a little too loudly so it's not even really whispering, head rolling to the side to look at Gabriel who has been watching the city below them. "Do you think..."

Wow, words. _Words?_ Words. He knows he has 'em. Somewhere. Okay, yeah, Wes is never going to drink with Justin ever again. Or Hayne since she kept egging the both of them on.

"I do, in fact, think," Gabriel replies and Wes can pretty much hear the smirk in his voice even though he can't _see_ it.

"Not what I was tryin' to ask and you know it, smart ass."

"I'm not a mind reader, you know. I just happen to have approximate knowledge of many things, Westley."

"Shut up, that's not even my name," Wes groans, but he can feel himself grinning and there's no actual heat to his words. "Look, there's this guy I know back in New York, Al, and he runs a store. Corner of Washington and 6th. Gets robbed at least once a week, and he's always been a good guy, and I was wondering... Is there some way to get protection for him? So that doesn't happen? Like, he's got a shotgun under the counter, but one of these days... I dunno, I'm worried that he's gonna get shot one day, and he doesn't deserve that."

"There's a lot of people who don't deserve that." Gabriel's got a point, and okay, maybe it was a little bit of a long shot, especially for just _one_ shop owner who sure as hell isn't gonna pay for protection when he's already got a gun, because Al can be stubborn like that, and— "But sure, consider it done."

Wes blinks.

"Wait, really?"

Bright blue eyes are looking right at him, crinkled in what Wes has come to associate with as amusement.

"Yes, really."

"Thanks," Wes says, a little blindsided at how easy that was. "I'll cover his protection costs."

"Don't worry about it." Gabriel raises a hand, cutting Wes off before he can argue. "Anyone ever tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?"

Slumping back in his seat, Wes heaves a dramatic sigh. "You're too nice, dude. Not charging me a dime for protecting Al. Mother Teresa's gonna pop up out of her grave and give you her Nobel Peace Prize."

Gabriel snorts at that.

"Don't tell anybody; I've got a reputation to uphold." He nudges Wes' arm. "Now drink your water."

"Preventing my future hangover? Oh man, if you're not careful they'll canonize you. Make you _Saint_ Gabriel."

\---

In all honesty, he probably should've deleted the selfie of Gabriel with a beat up Mayor.

Incriminating evidence, technically.

Assuming that the FBI agent (something with an _R,_ he thinks) who's been harassing him lately somehow gets his phone, but then again the guy already has plenty of evidence that could put Wes away for longer than he'd like, so does it really matter?

Yeah, probably.

And it's not like he doesn't have photos of the rest of the crew on his phone either; drunk selfies of himself with Justin and Carly, or dozens of snapshots of Edwyn doing dumb shit because he lost all of the old ones he had when the FBI took his last phone (it wasn't in with the things that the crew had gotten back for him, so Wes figures it was destroyed or good ole what's his name still has it). There's even a few of Anna and Justin arguing over which equipment works better for what job, and one of Kaz and Kaidan arm wrestling where Kaidan is losing horribly.

Hell, Raquel even graciously let him get a photo of her after the last successful heist, and she never lets anyone get away with that except for Gabriel.

(And probably Michael, but Wes tries not to think about their boss a lot. Not that he doesn't like Michael - the two of them get along pretty decently - but there's just something that doesn't sit quite right with him.)

The selfie with the Mayor isn't even the only picture of Gabriel he has on his phone. After Wes had replied to the text with _'8/10. lift up a little next time you'll get a better angle that way'_ it seemed to set off a reaction of some kind, because before long he found himself getting more selfies of Gabriel doing something definitely illegal. Usually of him and whoever he was interrogating and then Wes would critique it.

Not one of them showed Gabriel's face though. He wasn't expecting it, especially since Gabriel would let them go after he got whatever info he was after, but to say Wes wasn't a little disappointed would be a lie. If anything, it just made Wes even more curious about what was beneath that painted on smile.

A mystery that he'll never solve, because Wes is pretty certain that Gabriel would have to be dead in a ditch somewhere before showing his face and even then there'd be at least two masks underneath that one.

It makes for a great guessing game though.

\---

At first, Wes couldn't understand how Gabriel, Michael, and Raquel could stand to wear their masks all the damn time. Figured it has to get uncomfortable at some point.

After their first couple of jobs, Wes got used to it. The rainbow and and bright purple middle finger became like a second skin; same person, different face.

"Just know, you've left me no choice," Gabriel explains, sounding both exasperated and resigned, to the man sitting at the rickety table set up in the middle of the abandoned warehouse they're using, barely within city limits. "Now, I like to think of myself as reasonable - am I a reasonable man, Raphael?"

Wes snorts from where he sits on the half wall a few feet away. "As reasonable as anyone in our line of business can be."

"See?" Gabriel turns his attention back to the man. "A ringing endorsement if I've ever heard one."

A quick gesture and Wes tosses over a a mesh bag full of oranges and a stack of heavy, hard cover books all wrapped together in a leather strap; this is just the warm up, the real heavy duty shit is still hidden behind the half wall he's sitting on, out of sight. Normally, Wes isn't usually involved in this part at all, even after the whole thing with Borchard - hell, he's pretty sure Gabriel usually handles this part just by himself - but Gabriel had texted him the location, told him to bring his mask, and here they are. He doesn't know the full context of what's happening or why, pretty sure he wouldn't get an answer even if he asked. Wes isn't dumb; he _knows_ there's a lot he's not being told, that Kaidan and the others aren't being told.

But Wes trusts the main trio. More so Gabriel and Raquel, but he does trust Michael enough to not shank him unprovoked. Mostly.

There's still that tiny flare of unease, though. The fact that _no one_ in the crew has seen their faces is a pretty damn big red flag in Wes' opinion, because should the worst come to pass, the only ones who could possibly walk away with zero repercussions are the main three.

He'll still take his chances with them than gambling with whatever the FBI wants from him.

Besides, Wes actually likes this crew and he's not gonna screw them over.

Wes watches as Gabriel swings the mesh bag in an arc, as it lands against the nameless man's back with a _thwack,_ and he sees the man jolt forward but unable to really get away because of the fact that his hands are manacled to the table and his ankles are trapped to the chair legs with zip ties. A few more heavy arcs and Wes can tell that there are bruises already forming beneath the man's rumpled and ripped dress shirt. He'd maybe feel bad, might even wince in sympathy, if the guy was innocent. But Wes can tell by the quality of his clothes that the man has money - a _lot_ of it - so he's got some sort of sway over the city, and the fact that Gabriel is the one dealing with him means that the guy is affiliated to the Outfit and the Don.

Probably bankrolling their operations, or laundering money for them that they can't do through Crimson Trust.

At some point the mesh bag of fruit is switched out for the bulky books strapped together, and it hits a hell of a lot harder, the corners digging in harshly on contact. Blood trickles out of one corner of the guy's mouth as Gabriel asks him what he wants to know. There's a disappointed sigh that doesn't match the ever present red smile of the mask.

"You're not looking too good there, Frank. All this effort to protect them, to protect Don Lavadechi, and they can't even be _bothered_ to come get you," Gabriel leans in closer and closer with every word until there's only a few inches separating his mask and Frank's face. Wes has to hand it to him, Gabriel is pretty good at acting unhinged; it's very subtle and mostly in the eyes, but Wes can see the fear flash across Frank's face, the tense way the trapped man holds himself and it's definitely not just because of his injuries. "I just want to know a few very simple details and then you're free to go. Hell, I'll even have someone drive you to a hospital."

"You should tell him. He's not the kind of guy who likes repeating himself," Wes says, his own role this time basically to be the good cop to Gabriel's unhinged cop.

Frank glances over at him, but remains quiet. Tougher to crack than they thought.

"Raphael, we're going to need a hammer and the longest nails you can find."

\---

Looking through the files is a bad idea, it really is.

But Edwyn could use the help going through them and Wes has a soft spot for his best friend and bad ideas.

Despite what Syn had told them, the files have a lot of information. Wes has no clue what to actually _do_ with any of it, but it sure is _something._ There's a pattern here, plain as day, but without the right context for it it's absolutely useless to the both of them. All it really does is bring up more questions, makes the bigger picture blurrier than before.

It leaves Wes with a headache burning away at the back of his skull.

His eyes keep going back to the name Galilae.

\---

Curiosity gets the better of him, so the next time he goes to the library, he uses the computer at the very end of the row, and searches the name.

The only results he gets are about a species of snail.

It's not very helpful.

\---

It's not until after the dust has settled, until after Outfit soldiers broke into their safe house, that Wes even realizes that he's forgotten something.

Something important.

_The necklace,_ Wes thinks, gut twisting into knots as he continues driving towards the Mill with a white knuckled grip on the wheel. Because of course this would be the _one time_ he forgets to keep it close.

He's tempted to go back for it, damn the consequences because it was a _gift,_ but he won't risk Edwyn's safety over it. It better still be where he left it on the bedside table when this is all over, or he's gonna be pissed. Both at himself and at whatever is left of the Outfit.

Well, more so than he already is with his left leg burning and aching from being shot.

\---

_Bright flashing lights and the sound of delighted shrieks in a completely empty Coney Island; Wes knows this dream._

_Fingers gently wrap around his wrist, ice cold to the touch and he watches as a gaping hole hollows out his own chest, heart bleeding in a cage of bone. The specter next to him hums softly, blank face framed by familiar black hair and partially hidden behind a dark veil, and he follows her lead._

_They wind their way around rides and games and people who aren't there until they come to a stop in front of a funhouse, bright neon signs and exaggerated faces that have hunger in their gazes that follow every move he makes. The specter releases her hold on him and walks into the funhouse without him. Wes knows this dream._

_He follows after her._

_Twists and turns that mean nothing until he gets to the hall of mirrors. Reflections upon reflections of people he doesn't know and people he does, warped yet still recognizable, but none of his own._

_The end is near, the specter waiting for him at the exit beside another mirror, but for some reason, Father Murdock is there too. Wes doesn't know this dream._

_One reflection in particular catches his attention; his mask looking right back at him, the rainbow paint job running and smeared. It lunges out at him, tearing itself free from the mirror and knocks him down to the floor. His ears are ringing and he can't breathe as his ribs crush inwards and cold metal presses up against his heart, ripping its way through muscle. The mask looms over him, bright green glowing in the poor lighting of the funhouse._

_Father Murdock tuts and shakes his head at Wes, whose veins run dry._

_"You'll shoot your heart out, kid."_

\---

The ceiling fan in Greg's office spins lazily as Wes blinks blearily up at it.

It's been a couple of days since he and his crew got T-Boned by a garbage truck, but his whole body is still pretty sore.

Sore enough that he probably shouldn't be letting Gabriel sleep on him like this, but the weight is comforting, nearly lulling Wes back to sleep. And there's not really a lot of space on a cramped couch for two grown men anyway, and Wes really didn't want to leave last night. Not after shit hit the fan the way it did the past few days; maybe it's unnecessary or ridiculous, but Wes isn't ashamed to admit that he needed a little reassurance that they were both still alive and breathing because they'd both been pretty not great.

Judging by how dark the office still is, it's way too early for anyone to be getting up, so Wes doesn't bother trying to get up. Judging by what little of Gabriel's face Wes can see in the dark, the other man seems to still be asleep, which is honestly all the more reason for Wes to not move out from under him; from what Wes understands, the guy barely sleeps as it is.

So he lays there and lightly traces the various scars and burns scattered across Gabriel's shoulder, trying to place where and when he's seen this familiar face before, but failing because Gabriel's face is still mostly obscured by the near dark. But Wes _knows_ he recognizes him, vague as it is, and it just makes him even more curious. If the lighting were better, he'd probably figure it out, one more piece of the puzzle falling into place.

All it would take is turning the lamp on.

He could do it, but he won't.

Pressing a kiss to Gabriel's brow, Wes settles back against the couch to enjoy this small amount of peace and quiet.

\---

It's not easy to tell because of the red tinted lenses of her mask, but he knows Raquel is looking at the box he's holding, not even caring that he's dripping rainwater everywhere.

"I know they can't replace the ones you lost, but someone just left them in an alley, and I couldn't..." Wes trails off, barely noticing the way Raquel's hands curl into fists before relaxing. As much as Wes hates the fact that people will just abandon pets on the street, he knows Raquel hates it even more than him. Especially if it's cats. Or in this particular situation, a soaked through cardboard box of five kittens. "I figured you should have first dibs."

Her hands twitch, hesitating to take the box from him, the death by mafia grenade of her herd of cats clearly still too fresh in her mind. But she does take the box from him, a decisive nod telling him to come in. Wes follows her into her apartment and helps her clean the kittens' matted fur in near silence, the only sound coming from the rain hitting the windows. The silence isn't comfortable, but it's not awkward either. A perfectly nebulous neutral. And Wes finds himself enjoying it; things got kind of weird and strained between them for a while there. Ever since that night where he convinced Michael to not shoot that woman from the FBI in the grave their boss had made her dig and Gabriel had spent the night in Wes' bed.

Because he and Gabriel are a thing now.

Which... okay, he won't lie, Wes is really happy being with Gabriel, but he does feel a little bad because he can't quite tell if Raquel had or has feelings for Gabriel, or if they're just really close friends? And it's not his place to ask her that, because while they do generally get along pretty well, they aren't exactly close. Not like how he is with Hayne or Edwyn.

A gesture from Raquel and Wes is pulled away from his thoughts; she repeats the hand gesture which sends a bit more cornstarch flying, but the meaning pretty easy to grasp.

"Found 'em in an alley off of Roosevelt." He lifts up the calico kitten who mews loudly at the both of them. "Wouldn't have even noticed them if this one hadn't been making so much noise."

The tiny kitten had been meowing her head off, somehow being heard over the harsh downpour that has been hanging over the city for the past couple of days. It's a good thing she had been, because otherwise... well, it's not really worth thinking about, because she did and he found them and brought them here.

Which is probably the best idea he's ever had, because Raquel is already attached to the kittens judging by the soft purring sound she's been making at them as a couple of them try crawling up her arm.

\---

A hissed curse escapes from Wes as he jumps out of the way of the car speeding right at him.

Unfortunately for him, he's on an overpass and he jumps over the guardrail.

Luckily he manages to grab hold of the rail instead of plummeting to the highway far below him. The momentum and sudden stop wrenches his arm, but his grip holds firm. Well, mostly firm.

"Could use a little help here," Wes grits out and it's the honest truth. His rifle is still by the smashed up car he and Anna had been in and the only weapons he has on him are his combat knife and the Beretta Kaidan had given him all those months ago. And also the fact that's dangling over oncoming traffic. The Outfit has been stubborn, getting to Don Lavadechi almost impossible; Wes worries they lost their opportunity back in that warehouse when they went to rescue Greg.

"A little busy right now," Hayne grunts in pain over the comm-line. "Uriel and Sariel are trying to get the van running and I'm trying to keep them from getting shot."

"The fuck happened to the van?" The postal van had been ahead of them before a couple of Outfit foot soldiers had rear-ended the sedan and forced them into the concrete divider. But if the van is messed up then things aren't looking good for them right now.

The sound of tires screeching and rapidly approaching footsteps gets Wes' attention. With his half mangled free hand he grabs his pistol from its holster and readies himself. Someone answers him, but he's more focused on the immediate problems. Like the Outfit soldier who comes into view, gun raised. Gazes locked, they fire at each other.

The Outfit soldier goes down with a wet gurgling noise, grasping at his neck ineffectually, while Wes lets out a pained shout, nearly dropping his pistol as his right shoulder feels like it's on fire, a bullet lodged in him just below his collar bone.

And of course, now there's a car driving recklessly down the loop, breaking through the toll gate and swerving around other cars as it drives towards where he's still hanging.

_Fantastic._

Agony races up and down his arm as he lifts it once more and starts firing at the rapidly approaching car. Spiderweb cracks appear in the windshield and the car screeches to a stop below Wes, which is good because he finally loses his grip on the railing. The car roof breaks his fall, but he can feel something _crack_ and the air is knocked out of him.

Oh, he hates this. He really, _really_ hates this because his whole body hurts and it's gonna hurt later too. If he lives that long, since the passenger side door opens up and out pops someone who clearly does not have good intentions.

If asked later, Wes honestly wouldn't be able to answer how he managed to lift his arm and shoot the woman who's got violence in her eyes, or how he rolled away from the bullets firing up through the roof with fucked up ribs and shot blindly through the open passenger door at the driver.

Sprawled out on the roof of the bullet riddled car, Wes taps his comms again. "Hey, Mouse. Mouse? Need an ETA on the cops, please and thank you."

After that there's a lot of chatter on the line, but Wes is kinda focused on breathing and trying to keep pressure on his right shoulder as he watches the clouds pass by.

"God damn, Raphael, the fuck did you do?"

Oh hey, it's Hayne. He's gad to see that she's still alive. Of course, Hayne's hard to kill. Wes is sure she'd have taken an entire city block down with her if she had.

"Fell off the overpass. Is it just me, or do these guys want us dead?"

"Well, you still think you're funny so you can't be that bad off."

"What are you talking about, I'm always funny."

"Debatable."

His chuckle at her deadpan expression trails off into a groan.

"C'mon, down you get," Hayne says as she hauls him over to the edge of the car roof. "Mouse says the cops will be here in a few, so we need to be long gone by then."

\---

Something's burning.

Something is _burning_ in his apartment at eight in the _morning_ on a _Tuesday._

It's not Edwyn because _one:_ the guy never burns anything when he cooks, and _B:_ Edwyn crashed at the old Watermill last night, the Archangels' replacement for the Mill, just like he has for the past week and a half since that fuck up on the highway - he's been helping Kaidan plan an LA job, something about hitting cartel property - and Wes would've heard him if he came back. So somebody has broken in and is trying to burn the place down. Poorly.

Damn it, they _just_ got this new safe house.

With a wince, body still hurting and aching, he grabs his Beretta from where he keeps it under his pillow, thumbing the safety off. Wes steps out into the hallway. It's eerily silent as he inches his way towards the living room, the quiet broken by muttered cursing and all the tension drains out of Wes. Turning the safety back on, he heads for the kitchen where the red smiley mask sits on the counter.

"Here to break the toilet again?" Wes asks, a wry smile on his face as he watches Gabriel struggle to flip what looks like a charred pancake.

"Breakfast arson, actually," he quips back, letting Wes shoo him away from the stove and the stack of pancakes that are nearly burnt beyond any recognition.

Wes chuckles at that. "I don't think there's any saving these."

"Yeah. My strength lies in baking." Gabriel reaches out and holds Wes' hand, calloused thumb gently brushing over split knuckles. "But that's not why I'm here."

A smile pulls at Wes' mouth and he tugs Gabriel closer. "And why are you here?"

The only answer he gets is a soft smile from Gabriel as the man reaches into his pocket with his free hand and Wes can feel his breath catch in his throat once he sees the sapphire necklace.

"How did you...?" Wes trails off in surprise.

"It took some work, but I managed to track it down." Wes can feel Gabriel's eyes on him and wonders what expression must be on his face. A part of him had been resigned to never seeing this again, and really, in the long run, it's just a necklace and Wes usually isn't all that big on jewelry anyway, but...

Closing what little space remained between them, Wes wraps his arms around Gabriel, burying his face against the other man's shoulder. It isn't until Gabriel holds him back just as tightly that Wes feels himself tearing up a bit. Okay, maybe a little more than a bit.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine, it's just..." Pulling back enough to look Gabriel in the eye, Wes can't help but grin, chest feeling full enough to burst. "This is the nicest thing that anyone's done for me."

And it is. Sure, the necklace is the prettiest and nicest thing anyone's ever given him, but the fact that someone - Gabriel - went through the effort to make sure it got back to him when it really would've been a hell of a lot easier to not do so? That means more to him than the damn necklace.

The ridiculously fond smile looks kind of weird with the ski mask, but it tugs at Wes' heartstrings, makes him fall in love with Gabriel all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> i think i remember seeing on the forum that there was supposed to be a part in the game where we get the sapphire necklace back, but it was accidentally forgotten, and idk if they'll put that into the game in the next update or not? i hope so, or maybe it'll be included in book 2.
> 
> i'm just hella sappy and gay and so is Wes tbh. that's really my only excuse for any of this. i'll probably come back and edit this/make this into a series later.


End file.
